grab for any comfort, any little thing
by a0novel0idea
Summary: Tobias's sister Olivia faces even more problems with the influx of new initiates. (AU Sequel to "stand at the abyss, you fall to your knees") Eric/OC
1. man is not made for defeat

1\. man is not made for defeat

It's the crying that wakes him, soft and pitiful and almost noiseless. For several moments, his sleep addled brain thinks it's Adele, probably fussing for food or a change, but the crying isn't coming from the crib they had set up in the corner, and they don't have Adele tonight.

Olivia is curled up in a ball, hands over her head and knees protecting her chest, and she's pushed herself into the corner where his mattress meets the wall. He can't see her very well, can't see the way he knows her eyes are clenched shut or the way her teeth are grinding together, but now that he's awake he can feel the way the bed is trembling. He reaches out carefully, aware that anything could set her to fighting him, kicking out at someone who isn't really there, and that's not what he wants. The back of her hand is cold when he touches it, and he calls her name softly until some of the tension bleeds out of her shoulders.

When he finally convinces her to unravel and let him hold her, she clings to him like he's the only thing keeping her grounded, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him so tightly that he's almost convinced he can feel her heart beat through her shirt. He doesn't sleep again, can't, not when he knows that something out there is causing her distress, but he relaxes some when she manages to slip back into a light doze.

Despite the occasional unsettling night, Olivia's sleeping has gotten much better, especially on the nights when she's exhausted herself on patrol, or when they have to catch a quick nap between Adele's still-hectic eating schedule. He revels in the nights when they both sleep well, not because her nightmares irritate him, but because he sleeps better when she does. He likes having her here, in his space, in his bed, and he likes to think that he'd do anything to keep it that way.

* * *

Olivia stirs when the alarm on his wrist watch goes off. It's seven-thirty in the morning, earlier than he likes to be up, but later than she usually is; it's a compromise they've had to work on. Eric thumbs the alarm off, and rolls over her, wrapping her even further in his arms and covering her body with his. She settles back onto a pillow, arms still wrapped around his neck, eyes barely open as one of her hands skims over the freshly cut hairs on the back of his head. She smoothes the longer pieces away from his face, pushing them back like he usually wears them, but they don't stay for long without something to hold them that way.

It's moments like these, in the early quiet before the rest of Dauntless is awake, that he's reminded of how fragile this woman beneath him is. Her eyes are still red from the night before and her hair is sleep-wild, splashed out across his sheets like fire in a dark night. She isn't the Dauntless she has grown to be, she isn't loud and free and spirited; she just is, content to be like so many aren't, and it's one of the things he loves most about her. He ducks his head and runs his nose along the side of her neck until she shivers, and starts to push him away. He rolls away from her and onto his back, letting her fling a leg over his waist and crawl out of bed; she presses a closed mouth kiss to his chin as she goes.

Eric stays in bed, listening to her brush her teeth and braid her wild hair out of the way before rejoining him on the bed. When she attempts to crawl back over him, he catches her by the waist and sits up so that she balanced on his lap. She smiles at him, but when he goes to kiss her, she does the same thing she does every morning that he tries this: she put a hand over his mouth and says, "Not until you brush your teeth, and you know that."

He laughs behind her hand because he knows this, and she knows that he knows this, but sometimes in the morning after they need to be less serious than they could be, they need to pretend that there isn't a world before them and a past behind. Instead of arguing, he dumps her to the side, laughing at the squawking she makes when he does so, and heads into the bathroom himself. After he's got his toothbrush in his mouth, he stands in the doorway, leaning on the jamb and watching Olivia.

She's sobered, watching out the window from where he left her on the bed, so he finishes what he's doing, spits and rinses, and goes to scoop her up from the mattress. She starts to protest but he can hear the noise die in her throat when he heads towards the windows. He sets her on the ledge, keeps his hands on her thighs to keep her steady, and they both spend the next thirty minutes watching Dauntless wake up from another night's sleep.

* * *

So this is the sequel I promised. Every chapter won't be in Eric's POV, but a few will. There is no definite time frame in which this work diverts from the original, but this one does pick up at the beginning of "Divergent". Updates will probably be slow coming, but I am working on this, so I hope you guys like it.


	2. go in and take your chance

"You missed the Initiates Jump," Az tells me as she sits down. I had wondered why she was so late; I'm almost done with my food.

"Shame. Who came down first?"

"Abnegation," Az grins. "Third year in a row. What are they putting in your water over there?"

"That is not something I want to think about," I grimace, pushing what's left of my banana pudding around on my tray.

"They should be coming through any time now. Want to stay and watch?"

"No, thanks," I tell her. "I told Fanny and Liz that I'd take Adele this afternoon; we're working on walking." I yawn. "And napping. We're working on napping."

"Bad night?" she asks quietly.

I take a moment to wonder at how much better her subtlety has gotten before saying just as quietly, "It happens. Adele usually wears me out, though, so I should be okay tonight."

"You and that kid," Az says wistfully. "When are you two going to have your own?"

"No," I say, stacking my trash and standing, relieved that the other subject has been dropped.

"No? No, what?" she laughs.

"No, we're not having this conversation _again_."

"But they'd be so cute! All redheaded and chubby with Eric's scowl."

"And they'll still be cute if we wait a few years."

"I want to be an aunt before I'm dead!" she calls after me as I dump my tray and head out towards the Pit. I flip her off and listen to her laugh behind me.

* * *

"I haven't fed her yet," Fanny says as soon as I scoop Adele off of the floor. She's been eating so much, I'm surprised she doesn't weigh more than she does, but I suppose that happens when a one-and-a-half-year-old is suddenly at eye level with your knee, when she manages to stand at least.

"But I just came from the commissary," I whine. "And it's nap time."

"Are you sure you're the adult in this situation?" she asks, sharp tongued as she always is. "She hasn't been fussy today, so I let her play while I fed and put the others down for their naps. Take her to the commissary and let her look at the people, and stop feeding her the chocolate cake."

"She likes the chocolate cake," I say innocently.

"She's a baby. She likes anything you put in her mouth. Now, get out. It's my nap time now that everyone else is asleep."

"I hate you so much right now, Fanny," I say as she closes the door in my face. I huff, and say to Adele, "I don't really hate her, but I was really looking forward to a nap, cutie-pie. Let's go get you some food, yeah?"

* * *

"I'm back," I say as I take the same seat next to Az and settle Adele in my lap; she's gotten tall enough that she can see over the lip of the table.

She hasn't moved, too engrossed with making bets with Harper. She looks over at me briefly, and coos at Adele, but her attention doesn't really leave the table where the new initiates have settled. I feed Adele a few bites of peas, and try not to doze off at the table. After ten minutes of constant background noise, I'm ready to give up and sleep on the table, but Az nudges me with her elbow and thrusts her chin in the direction of the initiates.

Eric is standing over the end of the table, eyes focused on my brother. Tobias is frowning, which means Eric probably is too, but I'm not about to break up a potential fight in the middle of the lunch rush. One of the things I've learned over the last year is that neither of them likes to be wrong, and neither of them likes to be called out on it.

"Those two fight like wet cats," I sigh. "They'll be alright."

"Well, whatever that was, I think Eric just scared the shit out of the initiates."

"He probably did it on purpose," I snort, wiping Adele's face. Her eating has started to slow down and I can tell that she's just about as ready for nap time as I am.

I clean up the front of her shirt and stand, ready to leave for the comfort of my bed. Adele sits heavily on my hip, and I wish Az and Harper a good afternoon before slipping out of the chaos that is Dauntless meal time, and head for the room that Az and I still share.

* * *

I get to sleep for maybe an hour before I'm woken up by someone pushing me over and climbing into bed with me. I expect it to be Eric, stopping by between one meeting or another, but when I turn over, it's not him. It's Tobias. A frown's been carved into his face, and I imagine Eric is the one to have put it there, and he lays his head on my pillow and doesn't say anything for long enough for me to doze back off. When he does start to speak, he does it quietly, quietly enough that I'm not awake enough to understand what he's saying until he starts talking about Max.

"Whoa," I say, tapping him on the chest. "Why are we talking about Max?"

"Were you asleep the whole time?" he asks rudely.

"Yeah, that, not happening," I tell him. "You're the one that crawled into bed with me, Tobias, and you are the one that started talking without making sure I was awake. Do not bitch at me because I don't know what's going on."

He sighs through his nose and deflates bonelessly into the mattress.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," I say, "Now, what about Max?"

"He's started pushing me for a leadership position again."

"Does this have anything to do with the fight you almost started in the commissary?"

"Eric started it," Tobias grumbles.

"You both started it," I say, rolling my eyes. "What does Eric think about it?"

"He agrees it's not his business, but when Max tells him to do something, he kind of has to."

"So Max tells him to go bother you about it so Max himself doesn't look bad," I sigh. "Max is such a dick."

"Don't I know it."

"So what are you going to do?" I ask, sitting up so I can lean over the side of the play pen and make sure Adele is still sleeping. She hasn't moved an inch since she fell asleep.

"I'm going to keep saying no. Max can bother me all he wants, but he can't change my mind, and he can't make me take the position."

"Why do you think he keeps coming back to you?"

"Hell if I know."

"Maybe he'll find someone to bother in this new group of initiates instead."

"I hope they all fall in a hole and die," he groans, rolling over to bury his face in my pillow and flinging an arm across my waist.

"That bad, huh?"

"I've got a Candor that doesn't know how to shut her mouth,-"

"When do they?"

"-and an Erudite that's already proven he's an egotistical jackass,-"

"They usually are."

"-and an Abnegation that can't keep her nose out of anyone's business."

"You and I both now that when an Abnegation leaves, it's for a good reason."

"It's Andrew Prior's daughter."

That makes me pause. The Priors had been our neighbors, back before Tobias had left and I stopped having anything to do with anyone other than, unfortunately, Marcus. They had always seemed nice, polite at least, but I never really knew them either.

"Do you think…."

"What?"

"Do you think she could have left for the same reason we did?"

"Olivia," he sighs, "it's always possible, I guess. No one ever gave Marcus a second thought."

"It's not like we gave them a reason to."

He's quiet.

"Doesn't she have a brother?" I ask.

"I don't know."

"Huh."

* * *

I wait until my last full day at the compound to go snooping around the initiates. They've been in training for three days, and I've hardly seen Eric, except to sleep and sometimes eat, or Tobias, who immediately locks himself in the control room when he's done with them. I'm getting a little lonely. I know they've been taking their lunch break about one every day, so I make sure to drop Adele off in the nursery with Fanny, and park myself outside the weapons range to wait.

Right after one, the first of the transfer initiates comes out the door, a taller boy with dark hair, and a girl with wide shoulders and a short nose follows him. They don't pay much attention to me other than to look me over, but I can hear them whispering as they walk down the hall. A handful more come out in a group, two tall boys following a dark skinned girl, a couple holding hands. The last one out the door is a small mousy girl with long brown hair. She has a bruise on her face, but the skin on her elbows is also split so she must be doing something right.

I wait until all of them have left the hall before I enter the range. Eric is throwing knives, one after another after another at the target board; my brother is collecting those that have fallen. I watch them both for a moment, and I know they aren't happy with each other, but they're going to get along if I have anything to say about it. I clear my throat, and wait for them both to look at me before I point towards the door.

"We're going to lunch," I tell them.

"Olivia," Tobias sighs, "we've got to clean up here, and I've got to go to the control room to make sure everything is okay."

"Leave it," I say. "The initiate that did the worst this morning gets to clean it all up, and the control room will be fine without you for one day."

Eric sighs, drops the rest of the knives in his hand into the bin where they're stored, and heads toward the door.

"No objection?" I ask, only mildly surprised.

He shrugs, "I'm hungry."

"Well, alright then. Come on, brother dearest."

He scowls at us both for a moment, then drops his own knives in the bin like he's given up on life, and trudges toward us.

"I want some goddamn cake," he say.

"You can have my piece," I say, and the three of us head in the direction of the commissary.

* * *

As soon as we're seated, Tobias and I swap banana pudding and chocolate cake; Eric slides a third bowl of pudding my way, and I feel kind of bad because I don't have a piece of cake to give him, but he waves me away just like he always does.

"So how are things going?" I ask. I'm not about to let them stew in silence.

"Alright," Tobias says.

"Poorly," Eric counters.

Tobias opens his mouth to argue, but I beat him to it.

"Ah-ah," I say. "We are not about to start a fight in the commissary. Use your words, not your volume."

"You spend too much time in the nursery," my brother says.

"I spend too much time with 209," I say. "Why are things alright and why are they poor?"

"They're doing well for transfers," Tobias says. "They just haven't gotten the hang of everything yet."

I look at Eric.

"They complain about everything," he says. "They act like nothing is worth their time, like there aren't any consequences if they fail. That's not how it works here. That's not what Dauntless is about."

"So they're not measuring up because they're not sure if they want to be here," I say, and even Tobias nods reluctantly. "So how do you motivate them? How do you make them take Dauntless seriously?"

"They're not ready for a Challenge yet," Tobias says immediately.

"No one's ready for a Challenge the first time," I say, "but you're right; they'd get their asses kicked."

"Maybe not a Challenge," Eric says, "but they need something."

"Maybe you should talk to Az or Harper about it," I suggest quietly. "The initiates, how many of them had the same reason for getting out as we did? We had to fight for a spot because we were so afraid of the alternative, but it may not have sunk in for them yet. Ask Az why she transferred over; she may surprise you."

"Has anyone ever told you," my brother starts.

"I swear if you finish that sentence, this pudding is going all over your face."

Neither of them do, but they both snicker, and by the time they have to collect the initiates to return to training, they're both in much better moods.

* * *

On Wednesday, I'm stowing my patrol gear in my locker, making sure that everything is clean and intact, when Tank comes around and leans on the locker next to mine. She's been the same old Tank, loud and laughing and funny, until no one is looking, at least. She gets quiet, lonely, stands off to the side as is something heavy is weighing on her mind when she thinks no one is paying attention to her.

"What's up?" I ask.

"I'm going to go get a new tattoo tonight," she says. "Want to come hold my hand?"

There is no way I would turn her down.

"You need your hand held?" I ask, raising my eye brows.

"Not really," she says, "but come with me anyway."

"Sure. You want to eat first?"

"Hell yeah."

* * *

Tori has Tank take off her pants and lay on her back so she can stencil a surprisingly delicate flower pattern across Tank's thigh. I hold her hand just like she asked, though she really doesn't need me too. The needle moving across her skin relaxes her greatly, and I'm enthralled by the ink moving across her skin when Tank says,

"The reason I've gathered you both here today," Tori snorts, "is to tell you that I'm pregnant."

Tori stutters back away from Tank's thigh, and the noise of the gun halts so the only thing left in the room is our silence. Tank has her eyes squeezed shut, like she's expecting a bad blow, and I suppose that's what rejection can feel like.

"Really?" I ask quietly.

She nods without opening her eyes.

"And this is a good thing, right?"

"I think so," she says, taking a deep breath, and forcing her body to relax.

"Oh my god," Tori says. "Oh my god."

"Is that a good 'oh my go', or a bad 'oh my god'?" I ask.

"Oh my god," Tori says again, eyes wide like she can't believe what she just heard.

"Tori!" Tank snaps.

"I get to be an aunt!" Tori says. "Oh my god, a baby!"

Tank and I both laugh, and I pretend that I can't see Tank wiping away tears.

* * *

I crawl into bed that night later than I had planned to.

After Tori had managed to finish with Tank's tattoo, having to pause every once in a while to marvel at Tank, the three of us headed out into the Pit to see if we could find anything to satisfy Tank and Tori's sweet tooth. We managed to snag some chocolate from one of the cooks in the commissary, but not before Tank let it slip that she was eating for two. Then the cooks felt like they didn't have a choice, but they congratulated her all the same.

Eric is already asleep when I slip into his apartment, laid out across his bed with an open book propped on his chest. I change out of my patrol uniform, which is getting more and more comfortable as summer fades, and into one of Eric's shirts. I pull my hair down, let it fall over my shoulders, and try to slip the book out from under Eric's hand without waking him.

I fold the corner of the page down, and set the book on his dresser, he's reading _The Old Man and the Sea_ again, and turn to find him watching me. His eyes are heavy, like maybe he isn't quite awake, but he smiles at me anyway. I climb on to the mattress, and let myself collapse on top of him. He's warm, the same furnace that he always is, and as I settle in to use his shoulder as pillow he says,

"Out late."

"Was with Tank 'nd Tori," I mumble through a yawn. "Went to find some chocolate."

"Hmm."

"Sleep time. I've got to be up in the morning."

"Unreasonable," he says, wrapping an arm around my back and turning over so he's lying on me instead.

"Absolutely unreasonable," I agree.


	3. are they worthy to eat

I spend the next four days watching Tank carefully, and I even ask Slightly to trade places with me so I can keep an eye on the front of our convoy. Tank carries herself the same as always, and I get the impression that Tori and I are the only ones to know so far. This summer has been pretty quiet what with it being too hot for the factionless to bother to fight, but that doesn't stop them from trying. There are a few scuffles, but usually once they see us coming, they split up.

"I'm hot!" I hear the Duke yell from the driver's seat.

"I don't want to hear it!" Henley yells back. "You don't have to walk!"

"But I'm hot!"

I try to keep to my perch when Tank turns around and pops the windshield right in front of the Duke's face with a bright yellow paintball. I'm laughing too hard and I have to drop back down into the Bus proper before I fall.

"And now I can't see!"

* * *

My next free day is Saturday, and it's the day before Visiting Day. The initiates should have their final fights today, and tomorrow they'll shuffle into the Pit to both hope and fear that their families will come to visit them. At least I only had to deal with the fear. It still creeps in sometimes, especially on the days that Marcus feels the need to visit our compound to "strengthen the strained bonds between Abnegation and Dauntless". The only thing that makes those days better is that Eric told me, and Tobias, that Max instated a rule that visiting leaders aren't allowed to speak to members of a faction that isn't theirs without permission. I don't ask how much Eric had to do with that rule.

I let myself sleep in later than usual, catching the alarm on Eric's watch before it even goes off, and roll over into the warm spot he always makes. At seven-forty-five, a secondary alarm goes off, and Eric has to roll out of bed to get dressed before he's late to the last day of stage one. After he's brushed his teeth and thrown a shirt on, he leans over the bed and kisses me on the nose.

"You're still in bed," he says. "Everything okay?"

I nod, and scratch through the hair on the back of his head like I know he likes. "I just feel like being still today," I whisper.

"If you feel like moving, come find Four and me for lunch, oaky?"

I nod, and he kisses me one more time before he has to go.

Once I'm alone, I take my time getting out of bed and showering. I wash my hair, brush my teeth, think about shaving my legs and decide not to. I dress in comfortable clothes, one of Eric's shirts and a pair of soft pants, and make my way to the room that I still technically share with Az. Most of my stuff is in Eric's apartment now, so Az has the room to herself most of the time, which she doesn't mind. Harper's roommates, Jack and Connor, don't mind either, as it means they get to spend most night in their own beds.

I pound of the door a few times, giving them both a chance to cover themselves, before stepping in. There are three feet hanging off the bed and the blankets have been stolen from by bed, which I don't understand since it has to be seventy-five degrees in the room, and I flicker the light switch a few times to get their attention.

"What?" Az groans from somewhere in the bedding.

"You off today?" I ask.

"What _is_ today?"

"Saturday."

"No," she sighs. "I have a shift at ten."

"Want to have breakfast?" I ask.

"Do I have to get dressed?"

"Yes," Harper answers for me.

"I'll meet you there," Az says, and I laugh as I close the door.

* * *

I grab a bottle of water from the commissary and set out to wander the Pit for a while; I probably have thirty minutes before Az makes it to breakfast. It's almost nine o'clock on a Saturday morning, so the rest of Dauntless is just now waking up. I see Cate standing in a group of her friends, but I only wave as I pass by.

There are others that I'm familiar with wandering about just like I am, but I don't know them well enough to intrude on their mornings, so I turn around and head back towards the commissary to meet Az. She already has a plate in front of her when I sit down with my own food, and she leans her head on my shoulder for several moments in lieu of a verbal greeting.

"How has your week been?" I ask.

"Great," she groans. "Erudite has been bitching about the kind of soft plastic pellets we keep asking for, and they won't make us any paint that isn't blue anymore."

After the initial delay after our class passed initiation, Az took a spot in the Armory, which is responsible not only for the general upkeep of all security systems and weaponry, but also for making sure that patrol units have proper equipment and ammunition. Her favorite thing to do is bitch at me about how we waist paint pellets.

"Whose idea was it to put you in charge of dealing with Erudite?" I laugh.

"Freaking Jacey," Az swears. "Thinks that just because I transferred in means that I haven't earned my spot yet. I passed initiation damnit."

"And that's all that matters," I say, "but maybe you should start signing Jacey's name to all the ridiculous requisitions you can think of."

"You know, I think we're almost out of knife polish and gun oil. It would be a shame if we overestimated our next order."

"That's the spirit," I snort. "You can never have too much gun oil."

* * *

When I slip into the initiate's training room a few hours later, it's in the middle of a fight. It's the smaller girl with long brown hair versus the taller, wide shouldered girl. I'm not the only one milling about the edges of the room, not the only one curious about the outcome of this year's lot. I find a corner of the room that has a good view and stick to it, letting my eyes linger on the fight. The smaller one is winning.

The bigger girl has a lot of strength behind her, but she's already too angry at the smaller one to make it through this fight victorious. She throws her weight around like it's the only weapon she has and she doesn't stop to think that that could get her into trouble. The smaller girl knows how to throw her weight around as well, but she's more delicate about it, more calculated. She sweeps her foot out, and the bigger girl goes down, but the smaller one doesn't stop kicking until my brother steps into the ring and makes her.

When she turns toward me, the look on her face speaks to what she has just done: she didn't enjoy it, but she doesn't regret it either. Tobias turns her away from the others and towards the door, and she doesn't stop walking until she's out the door. Two of the others, a tall dark-headed boy and a blonde one, help the other girl to her feet, and Eric demands that they help her to the infirmary. She's limping, and blood is gushing down her face, most likely from a broken nose. The boys practically have to drag her out of the ring.

I watch Eric and my brother whispering hotly at each other before my brother dismisses the rest of them for lunch; the other Dauntless that were here for the fights trickle out behind them. I try to keep to my corner, and let them try to work it out on their own, but I have to step in before blows are exchanged. I shove Tobias towards the ring until he's leaning on the edge of it, and a shuffle Eric into the corner where it was standing; Eric usually needs to be talked down, but Tobias is best left alone until his head cools.

"Punching him is not going to make things better," I say. "But if you feel like it will, you follow the rules: you request a match, you duke it out in public, yeah?"

"Yeah," he sighs, but his breathing is still heavy.

"So what's wrong? It looked like things were going pretty well."

"That match was a sham," he grunts. "Molly's been close to the top the whole time. There's no way Tris should have been able to come up from the bottom to win."

"Maybe you underestimated her," I say. "Maybe she's been holding back to make her improvement look better."

"No," he says, irritated. "She's barely been able to defend herself in the past three weeks, never mind actually win a fight."

"You just watched her do it," I say reasonably.

"She's just a fucking Stiff!"

I flinch back. He's never used that word around me before. It's ugly, and I don't like it, and it shouldn't matter now because the girl that transferred from Abnegation picked us, not them.

"A Stiff," I say. "I seem to remember having done pretty well for one of those, if I'm remembering correctly."

He groans and rubs his forehead, "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Do I?" I ask. "She came from Abnegation just like I did, she chose _us_, Eric. She chose Dauntless. Not Abnegation, not Erudite, _Dauntless_. Holding where someone comes from over their heads just because you don't think they deserve to be here is a shitty move, and you know it."

"Olivia – "

"_Don't_. Not right now."

I turn away from him and shove my way out the door. I'm furious at him, at this notion that one faction is above another, that where someone comes from could affect where they decide to go in life. That's what the Choosing Ceremony is all about: picking where you want to be and starting over. Getting out. Being free of your old life. This growing tension between Erudite and Abnegation is starting to crawl its way into other factions, and it's not right. Their politics shouldn't have anything to do with us, but they're starting to poison the well, so to speak, and it won't be long before we're all at each other's throats and we start killing each other off.

I stomp though the compound, letting my feet take me on the less-familiar route to my room, and something about me must tell the others to get out of my way because I don't face any opposition until I get to mine and Az's room. I close the door behind me, and I don't bother to turn on the lights, and I just sit down.

* * *

I sleep in my own bed that night, but I don't sleep well. I toss and turn for several hours before dozing off and waking again as soon as the smallest noise sounds outside our room. Az's breathing is deep and calm, and Harper's breathing is absent; I imagine he decided to spend the night in his own room after encountering me in my room. I hadn't meant to be so rude, but I also know I can apologize later, so the feeling of guilt that used to be so prominent doesn't even present itself this time.

Eric and I… we've fought before. Abut little things, like whose turn it is to feed Adele, or whose towel it is on the bathroom floor, what time is the right time to be up in the morning, small insignificant things that never really mattered, but _this_. I don't know what's going on with Eric to make him act like this, defensive and cruel and so unlike himself, but calling out an initiate just because she's from somewhere that he's not, that's not _Eric_, and I don't know what to do to fix it.

* * *

Sunday is Visiting Day.

Not the most pleasant day for any of the initiates, but it's everyone's last chance to say goodbye. I stay in bed for a long time, long enough that Az comes looking for me, but I don't let her coax me out of my room. I stay in my pajamas, curled up around a pillow. I don't have anywhere special to be.

She leaves me alone to wallow, but the longer I lay in bed by myself, the more disgusted I become. I'm lying around, covering myself in pity because I'm fighting with my boyfriend. We've fought before, but I've never felt like this, and I decide I don't like it around lunch time. I scrape myself off the mattress and dig around for some clothes that I actually managed to leave here, and head toward the communal showers that all the people in my hall share.

I go about getting ready for the day methodically; I brush my teeth, wash my hair, and actually shave my legs this time. I pile my hair up in a mess on top of my head instead of braiding it today, pull on a shirt that actually belongs to me, and make sure that my boots are laced correctly. I feel better just for going through the motions, the tension in my shoulder a little less, my neck a little more loose.

I head out for the Pit, thinking I might find Tobias in the control room, but when I scale the rickety staircase and cross the glass floor, he isn't. The man sitting in my brother's usual spot is someone I've met before, Daniel, and he tells me that Four was asked to keep an eye on the initiates as they met their visiting families in the Pit. I thank him, and make my way back across the glass floor, and down the staircase and into the Pit.

I spot him even before I'm halfway down the staircase; he's hovering over the edge of the second floor railing, probably waiting for a moment to escape. I set myself beside him, close enough that our shoulders are touching, and lean on the rail with him.

"Hey," I say quietly.

"Hey."

"You want to get lunch after this?" I ask.

"Not really."

"Not even with the promise of chocolate cake?"

"No."

"Alright," I sigh.

Sometimes Tobias doesn't eat, and it worries me.

We stand there for several minutes, Tobias surveying the Pit for any kind of perceived trouble, when I feel him tense up beside me. I turn to look at him, and on the other side of him walking in our direction is Natalie Prior, Councilman Andrew Prior's wife. I snag Tobias's elbow and will him not to move; the last thing I need is for her to recognize me, to recognize either of us, and alert her daughter to who we are. She's locked eyes with Tobias and before either of us can do anything about it, she sticks her hand out and says,

"Hello. My name is Natalie. I'm Beatrice's mother."

Tobias shakes her hand stiffly, before withdrawing it quickly.

"Four," he says. "It's nice to meet you."

"Four," she repeats, eyes sliding over his shoulder to meet mine. "Is that – "

She halts, and I know the second she figures out who I am. I turn without saying a word and flee, my steps smooth and my back straight so it doesn't look like I'm running away. I turn down a hallway and I keep going because the last thing I want is to have a conversation with that woman about Abnegation, and Marcus, and I don't want her to figure that Four is my brother; the last thing he needs right now is for Beatrice Prior to know who he is.

* * *

Tobias finds me in my room a few hours later; neither of us has eaten, and he comes bearing a gift in the form of an apple. I pick at the skin as he drops down on my mattress, bouncing me a little, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose like a headache is about to blossom. I offer him the first bite of apple, and he takes it, chewing thoughtfully like he has something to say.

"So you and Eric are fighting," he says.

I roll my eyes and crunch into the apple myself.

"He's being an asshole because you two are fighting."

"We're fighting because he was being an asshole."

"That's not any different from usual," Tobias says.

"I don't like that word, '_Stiff'_," I say. "He knows I don't like that word. He's never used it like that before."

"Maybe something's up."

"He hasn't told me if there is," I say, then more quietly, "He usually talks to me."

My frustration comes out more willingly than I want it to.

"Maybe it's something he doesn't want you involved in."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"Tobias Eaton," I say, "Are you trying to defend him?"

"No," he says calmly.

"Then what's with this whole talking thing? You never want to talk. Especially about what's going on between me and Eric."

"But I do want to see you happy," he says seriously. "You're happy with him."

I sigh through my nose and flop over so I can use his shoulder a pillow, and he grunts about it.

"It makes me happy when you're happy," he says.

"That's the most adorable thing you've ever said," I grumble.

"Yeah, well don't tell anybody."


	4. with eyes a little sorry

The initiates and I have the next week off, and I see them everywhere. In the Pit, in the commissary, in the tattoo shop, running up and down the stairs. I spend the majority of that week in the nursery with Fanny or running errands for her with Adele propped on my hip; Eric and I don't seek each other out. I can't decide if it's because he knows I'm still angry with him, or if he's just too busy, or if ….. I don't know what else. I know it makes me sound a little too dependent, but it's lonely without him. I've gone from seeing him all over, in his bed, in the commissary, to seeing him in distant passing, he exits as I enter and vice versa. It's set my routine on an axis I'm not used to.

It's Friday afternoon when Fanny finally says,

"So you and Eric are fighting, huh?"

"So?" I grunt, holding Adele steady on her feet as she takes a few guided steps.

"What about?"

I look up at her and try to decide if she actually wants to know, or if she's just being nosey.

"Don't look at me like that," she says. "You've been pissed off and grumpy all week, and no one ever sees you two together anymore."

We're quiet for a long time.

"He called the Abnegation initiate a 'Stiff', said there was no way she could have won her final fight because of it."

"He wasn't talking about you, though?"

"No, but he could have been. She beat the other girl, fair and square, and there's no reason to dispute that, _especially_ by claiming it's because she's not from Dauntless. I'm not from Dauntless, he's not from Dauntless, Four's not from Dauntless. That hasn't mattered at all before, so why does it matter now?"

"Could it be the news that Erudite keeps releasing?"

"What do Erudite reports have to do with anything?"

"You haven't been reading them, have you?"

I shrug.

"Erudite is dragging Abnegation through the mud, claiming that the food shortages are a result of Abnegation keeping it for themselves."

"That's not how that works," I grumble.

"But their main focus has been Marcus Eaton, and his two children," she says, and I freeze, terror creeping up my spine, "and Andrew Prior, now that his two children have left as well. Apparently there has been some evidence that the two Eaton children left because their father was beating them, and now the Prior children have left for the same reason."

I don't look at Fanny, I can't, but I'm pretty sure she can discern the truthfulness of those reports just by watching me. I can't speak for the Priors, and I _won't_ speak for Tobias and me, but there's always been something unsettling about the way Erudite puts out news, consequences be damned, and now that I'm on the wrong side of it, and it's more than just unsettling: it's _horrifying_. There isn't a bone in my body that wanted that knowledge shared between people, never mine broadcast to all five factions. If people believe it, and there will be some that do, they'll never look at me or Tobias the same again; we'll be pitied and coddled and excused and that is not how I want to live.

"I can't speak for the Prior family," I say quietly, hoping that Fanny will drop the subject.

"But you can speak for the Eatons."

I don't have an answer for her.

* * *

I spend Saturday collecting every report Erudite has put out about Abnegation in the last six months. The reports about Marcus are recent, released in the last ten weeks or so, and the ones concerning Andrew Prior are even more recent than that. Every medical exam Tobias and I have ever undergone is now available for public review, though they've been labeled 'Eaton Child One' and 'Eaton Child Two'. Additional exams labeled 'Prior Child One' and 'Prior Child Two' are also available for viewing; they do not show the same "clumsiness" as Tobias's and mine.

It's somewhat a relief, because I would never wish a parent like Marcus on anyone in the world, but at the same time, I feel like it singles my brother and me out, like it happened for a reason, or because we were weak. It is not a weak person that can put up with Marcus for years on end and not break. But then…

Then there's the one report that I never wanted to see again. It's four years old, nothing too long or obviously interesting to look at, but it had been right after our mother had died, and that was when Marcus had been at his most foul. I had three broken ribs and a fractured pelvis, which caused some internal bleeding that had to be cleaned up by a surgeon in Erudite. Marcus told them that I tripped down the stairs in our home; I didn't.

Later that night, Az and Harper find me in my room, huddled under the covers with the worn copy of my mother's book. Neither of them says anything, but I can tell they've read the reports just by the look on their faces. They don't ask about it, don't make any kind of comment or offer any condolences; they climb into my be with me, Harper against my back and Az at my front, and they just let me be. If I cry, well, they don't mention it.

* * *

Monday morning I report to training just like always. I haven't seen my brother, but when I ask, neither has anyone else. I'm shuffling around my locker looking for the rag I use to clean excess gun oil off both my hands and by gun when two arms wrap around me from behind. I have to twist back and catch a glimpse of bright blonde hair before I know it's Tank. I sigh, but keep digging, and eventually come up with a rag that, while not the one I was using, will do the job just fine. When I'm done cleaning my hands, and she still hasn't let go, I say,

"You have to let me go in order for us to go on patrol."

"I'm not going on patrol," she says.

"What?" I ask, jerking around.

"I told Henley," she says glumly. "He took me off rotation."

"_You told Tori and me before you told the father of your child that you were pregnant with his child?"_ I all but scream.

"Would you shut up?" she says. "I didn't know what he was going to say, and I needed to know it was a good thing before I told him."

"Tank," I laugh, "Henley _loves_ you. Why would he be upset that you're pregnant?"

She shrugs.

"It's not exactly something that we planned on," she says. "I didn't want it to ruin what we've got."

"Tank," I say seriously, "Isabell," she wrinkles her nose at the use of her real name, "is this baby something you really want? Babies are wonderful, you know I love them, but they're also a lot of work, and just because you might think that this is something that Henley wants, doesn't mean you need to do something you're uncomfortable with. If you don't want a baby now, you guys can always try again later."

"We," she pauses, "we talked about it. A lot. And before we, you know, knew I was pregnant, we didn't think we were ready, but now that it's happening, and we've got the choice to keep it or not… I do. I really, really want this baby."

* * *

That night, Az isn't in our room when I open the door, but Eric is.

"Get out," I say, dropping my uniform jacket on the chair in the corner.

"Olivia," he says, "we need to talk."

"Get out."

"And I need to apologize."

I stand my ground, arms crossed over my chest; he can say his piece, or he can do as I demanded and leave.

"Close the door?" he requests.

"I don't feel like being behind closed doors with you right now."

"Olivia," he sighs.

"What, Eric? What could be so important that it couldn't wait until I cooled off a little?"

"I didn't – "

"Don't tell me what you didn't do, Eric. You said it to my face! You know I hate that word and everything Erudite wants it to stand for. And it's bullshit! Just because she came from Abnegation doesn't mean she's any less worthy to be here! Not everyone in Dauntless was born here, but this is where we belong; hell, _you_ weren't born here, and you never let that stop you! So _what_ is so important – "

"You," he says, grabbing me by the shoulders; his hands are firm, but he isn't hurting me. "_You_ are that important, but you have to listen to me!" His voice drops down to barely a whisper, "There's something going on that I can't explain, not yet, not without putting you in danger, and I can't do that. I need you to stay away from me for a few more days; I need everyone to believe you're still mad at me."

"I am still mad at you!" I whisper furiously.

"And I can live with that so long as you aren't in the middle of this!"

"You haven't even told me what _this_ is!"

"I know, and I can't, but I promise I will, I promise."

"Eric!"

He kisses me on the mouth, and I think it's the first time I've tasted desperation.

"Don't tell anybody about this. Not Az, not Tank, not your brother."

"I don't even know what the hell is going on!"

"I love you," he says, almost like he's pleading for me to believe him, and then he's gone.

* * *

The next Saturday morning, I'm out of bed much earlier than is usual for me, but that's what happens when I can't sleep. Tobias has been especially busy with the initiates this week, working out opponents and counting points for ranks. I haven't seen Eric at all.

Az is awake by the time I come back from the bathroom, throwing on last night's clothes in order to join me in the commissary for breakfast. She skips the line, heading straight for the coffee and the empty seat by Harper, while I collect a tray and actual food. I sit down in the seat across from Az in just enough time to hear Harper ask,

"Did you guys hear what happened last night? One of the initiates lost an eye!"

"What?" I ask.

"Yeah! It was one of the transfers; someone snuck up on him while he was sleeping and jabbed him in the eye with a butter knife they must have smuggled out of here."

"While he was sleeping?" Az asks skeptically. "Not exactly someone we want hanging around. They catch who did it?"

"Not that I know of," Harper says.

"It was Edward," Tobias says, dropping into the seat next to mine. He looks pretty disgusted with the situation.

"Edward was the one that stabbed another initiate?" Harper asks.

"Edward was the one that lost the eye," Tobias says.

"How is he?" I ask.

"He'll live," Tobias says, "but if we find out who did this, they probably won't."

"Was it another initiate, do you think?"

"Probably," he says grimly. "And I think I know which one too."

* * *

Saturday night, Tobias tells me that the initiate that lost the eye, Edward, and his girlfriend, Myra, both quit. A part of me understands, you come to a place where you're supposed to be able to make a new home and you have your eye gouged out in the middle of the night by someone that's been sleeping in the same room as you for a month, and you might question whether or not you actually want to be here, or if living factionless might actually be safer. The girlfriend…. Her, I also understand, to a point anyway. They came here together, they were supposed to start a new life here, maybe be together for a while longer, and she loves him, or she at least thinks she does, which can be just as powerful as actually loving someone, but… something about the whole situation just seems off. If it really was one of the other initiates, then they now have two less transfers to compete with.

"Who do you think it was?"

"Peter," Tobias says without hesitating.

"Why?"

"He's a malicious little bastard with a jealousy streak a mile wide. Edward ranked first, knocked Peter to second. That didn't sit well with Peter so he did something about it."

"You got any proof?"

"Nope."

"Well, shit."

* * *

Tank and I spend Sunday in hers and Henley's apartment going over anything she could possibly know about having a baby. She almost freaks out several times, body going still and breathy, before forcing herself to take a deep breath and at least act like she was okay. Henley brings us lunch, hamburgers for them, fruit salad and banana pudding for me, before going back to the shift he picked up in the armory.

"So when a man and a woman decide that they like each other's bodies," I say jokingly once he's gone.

Tank smacks me with a pillow. "Isn't that supposed to be something about when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much…?"

"Love has got shit all to do with it," I laugh. "It doesn't even have to be intentional. I mean, all you really need is a guy's dangly bits and the right place to put them."

* * *

Monday morning, I'm leaning on the side of the Bus, waiting for the rest of 209 to get their asses in gear and exit the locker room. It's a pretty nice day, summer rapidly cooling into fall, skies clear, no sign of any kind of bad weather to come. Which is good for me because Henley has asked me to take Tank's position on the ground. It's a different kind of tired, spending all day on your feet instead of riding in a bus, but it isn't anything I wasn't prepared for, at least not yet. Henley has also been gracious enough to let Harold walk with us from time to time, so long as he doesn't distract us, and I enjoy the extra visiting time. He's still cautious about Eric, and the longer I spend with Dauntless the more I understand what uncontrolled fearlessness can breed, but he also understands that I have to make my own decisions, and I love him for it.

"You guys are taking a hell of a long time," I call when the others finally start trickling out of the locker room.

"New orders," Henley calls back. "We've been assigned an irregular patrol."

"A new patrol?" I ask. "How does that happen?"

"It doesn't," he says darkly.

"What's going on, Henley?"

"Gather round," he tells everyone.

The rest of 209 huddles in and Henley talks in soft tones so no one around can hear us.

"We've been assigned to pick up a shipment of new equipment from Erudite. Don't know what it is, don't know what it's for, don't know if it's dangerous."

"I don't like it," Bandit says automatically.

"I don't either, but we don't have much choice. Erudite is expecting us in an hour. After we get the shipment back, we're to resume regular patrol. And we're not to tell anyone."

"Henley," I say; my gut twists into a knot that I don't know how to untangle. "Dauntless doesn't keep secrets. It's not how we live."

"I know, Starshine, I don't like it any more than you do. It makes my skin crawl, but this is what we signed on for."

"No," I say quietly, "it's not."

* * *

Erudite loads the crates onto the Bus without saying a word to us, and we don't talk to them. The Erudite supervising hands us an envelope right before we leave that's addressed to Max, and Henley tucks it into his vest for safe keeping. The crates are big and heavy, solidly built and nailed shut; there's no way for us to peek inside. We've been instructed not to tell anyone what we're doing, but the first thing I want to do is run to my brother. But what would I say? We were given orders to pick up a shipment we aren't supposed to talk about? He'd ask me why I was talking about it.

It takes us an hour to get back to the Dauntless compound, Slightly driving slow enough that there's no risk of us slinging the crates around and damaging the contents. Max is there to greet us when we arrive, and Henley wastes no time handing over the envelope with his name on it. We're instructed to unload the crates and store them in a warehouse I didn't know was in use until then, and then we're willfully reminded that this isn't something we're meant to talk about.

* * *

We make four more deliveries that week.

* * *

On the next Tuesday, I've lost enough sleep over our irregular patrols to convince myself to talk to Tobias. I get up earlier than I normally would on my week off; I want to catch him in private, in his own apartment. I dress quickly without turning on the lights, and lace my boot up in the hallway. Tobias's rooms are on the same hallways as Eric's, about a ten minute walk, and he gave me a key months ago. No one is really awake at this hour in the morning, but I know it won't be long before the initiates have to be up for training.

I wait for several moments in the hall, waiting for some sign that someone else it up, but when it doesn't come, I'm not any more relaxed. I slide the key into the lock and slip in without fully opening the door, and when I do, I have to choke on the noise that threatens to tear its way out of my mouth.

"Hello, Olivia," my brother says flatly. "So nice of you to knock."

The small, mousy Abnegation initiate that Eric was so upset over is sitting next to my brother on his bed. They are both, thankfully, clothed. Tobias looks like this is the worst thing that could have happened to him, ever, and the initiate doesn't even seem to be breathing.

"Um."

"Olivia, this is Tris; she's an initiate. Tris, this is my sister, Olivia. You two can bond over the fact that you both almost got thrown over the chasm."

The suspicious deliveries leave my mind immediately, and my brain hooks itself into that sentence.

"When?"

"Last night," he says.

"Who?"

"I don't know yet."

"Do you?" I ask Tris.

She shakes her head at me.

I take a deep breath. What kind of scum does Dauntless keep dragging in. I push it to the back of mind for the moment; I came here for a reason.

"We need to talk," I say.

"Yeah," Tobias says. "We do."

* * *

Author's Note:

Hey guys. I've gotten a lot of reviews lately that are asking about explanations about the timeline. This is a "sequel" to "stand at the abyss, you fall to your knees", but it is an Alternate Timeline sequel. This is how things would have gone if I had continued into the Divergent timeline, instead of just doing an origin story. I guess the best way to explain it is to pretend that Olivia didn't die, because she didn't in this reality. There was no execution of the factionless, there was no finding Olivia's body. She and Eric continued on with their relationship, and this story picks up the night before Tris's initiation groups comes to the Dauntless compound.

I hope that clears up any misgivings,

Love you guys!


	5. hands which sent her forth

Tobias gives Tris an ice pack for the bruising on her face, and sends her to get breakfast before her training starts for the day. I watch her move, and guess that she's probably got more bruising on her ribs.

"What happened?" I ask.

"I was coming back from the control room last night. Peter, Drew, and Al were attempting to throw her over the railing."

"Where are they?"

"Peter and Al ran."

"And Drew?"

"Drew is in the infirmary," he says, a dark grin splitting the cut on his lip back open.

"Good," I nod. "You got a few minutes?"

"Anything for you," he says amicably.

I hesitate, not because I don't trust my brother, but because I'm not quite sure where to start.

"Last Monday, 209 was assigned an irregular patrol," I say, watching my brother's brow furrow; I'm not the only one that knows that never happens. "We've been picking up crates from Erudite. Don't know what they are, or if they're dangerous. We've made four trips, fifteen crates each."

Tobias doesn't say anything, rubs his hand over his face to swipe the blood off his lip.

"Does Max know?" he asks.

"Max is the one that sent us."

His frown deepens.

"You know something," I say, realization dawning in the back of my mind.

"Nothing concrete," he says.

"But you know _something_," I insist.

He nods slowly.

"Max has been up to something," he says quietly, "but I don't know what. He's had the control room vacated a few times in the last month, and when we come back the security footage has been wiped in some parts of the compound."

"What do you want to bet some of those times align with the deliveries we made?"

"You're probably right," he sighs.

"So what do we do?" I ask.

"Right now? Nothing. I have to get to training. But be careful who you talk to about this. We don't want Max suspicious, and we don't know who reports back to him."

"You mean Eric."

"Not necessarily," he says, but I can tell he doesn't mean it.

"I'll keep it to myself," I promise.

"Alright. Let's go get breakfast."

* * *

I spend the rest of the day with Tank, who's being driven mad by inactivity. Henley took her off the patrol rotation as soon as he found out she was pregnant, and she's yet to find another job within Dauntless that is safe enough for her. We walk around the compound, talking about nothing in particular and enjoying the cooling summer weather, until our feet hurt and we head back inside for dinner.

"I'm so hungry all the time," Tank says as we take a seat at our normal table.

"You are kind of growing a new human being," I laugh.

A look of horror crosses her face. "I've never thought about it like that."

I laugh a little harder.

"So, I still haven't found anything to do," she sighs. "And I've been working out to keep myself busy, but the medics say I'm not supposed to lift anything more than 45lbs in order to avoid future complications."

"What about helping with the initiates?" I ask, thinking that maybe Tris and a few of the other transfers could probably benefit from someone else watching their backs. "You can oversee and give advice, but you don't have to demonstrate or anything."

"That's a good idea," she says. "I'll see if I can find your brother when they're done for the day."

She pauses long enough to eat a few bites of her hamburger.

"How're you and Eric?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "We haven't spoken."

"That's rough."

"Fanny thinks," I say, then stop because I'm not sure I want to go down that path.

Tank makes a curious noise, but doesn't push.

"Fanny thinks," I say again, "that maybe he's upset about the reports Erudite is releasing."

"The re – ," she stops. "The accusations they're making about the councilmen's children?"

I nod.

"Are they true?"

I shove another bite of banana pudding in my mouth.

"I don't know about the Prior children."

"Fuck," she breathes. "_Fuck_, Olivia."

"Yeah," I agree.

* * *

"I can't sleep," I tell my brother later that night when I knock on his apartment door.

He throws the door open and lets me in. It's clear from the undisturbed bedding that he hasn't slept either.

"How's Tris?" I ask.

"Pushing through," he says.

"Did you report the incident?"

He shakes his head. "She didn't want to. Max wouldn't have done much anyway, what with them not being full Dauntless yet."

I think back on my own experience with the chasm, and the men Eric had executed for trying to throw me over.

"I doubt having them killed would have made her feel better," I say flatly.

"It would have made me feel better," he mutters.

I turn to look at where he's thrown himself on his couch.

"You like her," I say.

He grunts.

"You like her a lot."

He grunts again.

"You're adorable," I sigh, dropping down on the couch next to him. "Tell me about how pretty she is, how much you love her smile."

"You're disgusting," he says, lip curling.

"But I'm right."

* * *

Someone starts pounding on the door in the early hours of the morning. Tobias and I are slumped together on the couch, necks stiff, but actually having gotten a decent amount of sleep for once. Tobias yanks the door open, hair wild and face sleep-soft, and it's someone I don't recognize on the other side.

"It's one of the transfer initiates," the man says, voice soft and sad. "They're fishing him out of the chasm right now."

"Shit," my brother says, and follows the man out of his apartment without a second thought.

I sit back down to shove my feet into my boots and hope that Peter and his minions didn't finally get a hold of Tris.

* * *

It's another transfer, my brother tells me, but one that did attempt to throw Tris over the railing. I spot her in the crowd that's gathered, sided by two of the other transfers, a dark skinned bright eyed girl and a taller boy with floppy brown hair. She looks hurt, and only a few moments away from losing it. I step away from my brother and wind through the crowd to her side, and as soon as I reach for her elbow I hear another initiate, the big one with brown hair that Tris had fought and beaten on the day Eric and I fought, say,

"Surprise, surprise. Once a Stiff, always a Stiff. I read an interesting article today," she says, leaning in close, "about your dad, and the _real_ reason you left your old faction."

Tris twists away from her friends, rearing back like she's going to hit the other girl, but I catch her arm before she does. At the same time the other girl leans forward again, my other hand snaps out and I have her by the ear. Most people don't think of it, but it's a pretty effective place to hold onto and cause discomfort at the same time.

"Not like this, Tris," I say quietly.

"Let go of me, you bitch!" the other girl hollers, scrambling against my arm with her nails.

I give her a firm shake, and she stills. I can feel Tobias come up behind me, but he lets me handle the situation I've gotten myself into.

"You're a disgrace," I say quietly, but I can tell that everyone around us is paying attention. "You stand here and pick fights when a fellow initiate, a member of your family, has just died. You should be disgusted with yourself."

Her eyes flicker from my face to my brother's before she says to him, "You're going to let her treat us like this?"

"It's better than I would have treated you," he says, crossing his arms, "had I gotten here first."

Rashly, she throws a hand in the direction of my face, and I let her clip my chin. The rest of the room goes quiet.

"A Challenge, then," Tobias says. "Tonight, in the Pit."

Slowly the rest of the room, minus the initiates, begin to stomp their feet, getting louder and louder until the noise is deafening. I let go of the girl's ear, and she stumbles back, a confused look on her face. Tobias leans in close and whispers something in her ear that can't be heard over the stomping, but she pales and swallows, and I know she's just been told of what's to come.

* * *

Tobias steers me in the direction of the tattoo shop after the crowd lets up some, and Tris and her friends follow us. Tori is cleaning needles when we bypass the waiting room and invade her station.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asks sarcastically.

"I have a Challenge tonight," I tell her.

She raises her eye brows and gestures to her chair. I unbutton my pants and start to push them down when the transfer with the floppy brown starts to loudly protest. I turn around and raise my brow, never breaking eye contact until my pants are around my ankles. He turns purple and refocuses his gaze on the far side of the room. I've added to my tattoos since the first one, though I don't have anything too complicated. Four rings circle my calf, starting just under my knee; it's one ring for every Challenge I've won.

"What's a Challenge?" the bright eyed girl asks.

"It's a fight," my brother says, "a public one, fought in the Pit with everyone to see. We use them to settle disputes."

"But Molly didn't – ,"

"She hit me in the face," I say. "That's as good as questioning someone's worth around here. You learn to survive in initiation, but once you're through, you have to learn how to survive in our society. You don't aim for the face unless you're defending yourself, or you're issuing a Challenge."

"So, what'll happen?" the floppy haired boy asks.

"She'll be read the rules," Tobias says, "warned of what's at stake, and she'll have to accept her punishment as laid down by our leaders if she loses."

"How many Challenges have you fought in?" Tris asks, taking note of the tattoos on my leg.

"Four," I tell her, as Tori starts up the needle gun to begin on the fifth. I'll come back and have it filled in if I win, and if I don't it'll stay empty as a reminder of my failure.

"How many have you lost?"

"I haven't."

* * *

It feels like all of Dauntless is packed into the Pit that night.

A ring has been set up, slightly elevated, so it's more obvious if one of us steps out of bounds. Everyone stands a respectful distance from the sides, unwilling to have any effect on the fight to come. Az has braided my hair back against my skull, tighter than I normally wear it, and Tank has painstakingly wrapped my hands, making sure that each joint is as protected as it can be. The bracelet Eric gave me during initiation is wrapped under the fabric, as good a charm as I've ever had.

Molly looks nervous from where I stand. She's on the opposite corner on the ring, being presided over by Peter and a sorely bruised Drew. Her knuckles have also been wrapped, but she keeps clenching her fists like they're a foreign sensation between her fingers. Someone has given her a sturdier pair of shoes, but they aren't as heavy as the boots I'm wearing. That might very well be her downfall.

I don't see him coming until he's wormed his way between me and Tris, but Eric reaches for me, and I let him, despite still being upset with him. He puts a hand on either side of my head and kisses my forehead, "For luck, he says, just like every other time I've fought in a Challenge, before stepping into the ring. It's nice to know that he hasn't changed completely. The crowd hushes.

"Tonight," he calls, voice ringing against the stone walls of the Pit, "we have a Challenge between Initiate Molly, and our very own Olivia." The crowd roars until Eric throws his hands up. "Since one of our fighters isn't a member of our special club, the rules are going to be a little different. This will not be an incapacitation fight. Max will be judging, and will decide when the initiate is done and can no longer continue, _if_ she doesn't give up first. We all know which one is more likely." The crowd laughs, and Molly's eyes narrow. "Betting ends as soon as the fighters take place in the ring."

"They take bets on this?"

Tris asks, eyeing Eric suspiciously.

"Sure," I tell her. "And the winner gets a portion of it too, as an extra little reward."

"Who's in favor?" the bright eyed one asks.

My brother chuckles. "You got it wrong. When Olivia fights, the only bets taken are on how long her opponent will last."

The three transfers turn to look at me. I shrug.

I see Max step up to the side of the ring, and he nods to Molly, then to me, and we both climb into the ring. The crowd falls silent, the jumbled voices of people placing bets dying down.

"I want a clean fight," Max says. "No biting, no hair pulling. You may acknowledge each other."

I step towards the middle of the ring and hold out my fist for Molly to touch with her own. She hesitates, but does so. We step back into our corners until we hear the call.

The fresh tattoo on my leg burns in the best way possible as I take the first step forward and plow my fist into the other girl's face.

* * *

Four goes to the infirmary to make sure that Molly isn't too broken after the fight. Tris follows me back to the tattoo shop, but her friends stay for the party that's brewing in the wake of my victory. Tori congratulates me, and goes to grab the supplies she'll need to finish filling in my newest line.

"So, um," Tris starts.

"Hm?"

I turn my head to look at her.

"You and, and Eric…"

"It's complicated," I say, "but, yeah."

I thumb at the bracelet on my wrist.

"He's an asshole, and we fight sometimes," I continue, "but he's my asshole."

"Oaky," she says faintly.

Tori come back with the ink and a fresh set of needles.

"I think we should do this one in grey," she says. "You know, since this one was an initiate, not a full member."

I think about it.

"I like that," I say. "A dark grey maybe, since she _is_ in initiation. I don't want it to look like I think she's special."

"You've got to earn the black," Tori agrees.

Tris sits in a chair next to the bench I'm leaning on, and I watch her drift off into lala land as Tori starts up the gun.

"How are you holding up?" I ask.

"What?"

"You know, since you almost took that dive."

"Oh," she shrugs. "I'm oaky."

"You know it's okay not to be okay, right?"

"I have to be oaky," she says, quietly but firmly. "I can't let them think they've beaten me."

"Being beaten and keeping safe don't go hand in hand, you know."

"How did," she pauses, "What happened when you… the chasm…"

"I was still an initiate," I say quietly. "I had been tending some of the kids while their parents worked, and I went down to the commissary to find out why lunch hasn't come to the nursery yet, and two men were climbing the stairs in the Pit. They thought it would be funny to try and push me off, even though I was holding a baby. Max and Eric caught them, gave them janitorial duty as a punishment. They didn't like the thought of being punished for pushing around a transfer, so they snatched me out of bed, and tried to throw me over."

"Who stopped them?"

"Four and Eric were coming from the control room when they found me."

"And the men that tried to throw you over?" she asks.

I'm quiet long enough that Tori finishes the story for me.

"They were executed," she says, plainly but not unkindly, "for willfully endangering the life of a Dauntless child."

"Oh."

Tori finishes up with my leg, and the pleasant buzz that normally comes with getting a new tattoo starts to set in. She wraps it for me, and goes through the typical spiel about aftercare even though we know I don't need it. Tris and I stay and talk to Tori about other things while she cleans up, though we stick to safer topics than initiation and the chasm. It's quite late by the time we're ready to leave, but before we can, we hear the buzz that lets Tori and the other artists know that someone has entered the shop.

"We're closed!" Tori calls.

Eric comes around the corner, eyes immediately landing on me.

"We need to talk," he says.

I sigh, too tired to argue, and in no mood to fight with him.

"We'll lock up when we're done," he tells Tori, waving both her and Tris out of the shop.

Tris looks back at me when the reaches the door, but I nod at her to go; Eric won't hurt me, no matter how much he scares the initiates.

"What do you want?" I ask quietly.

He crosses his arms, shifts his weight back and forth; this is the closest thing to fidgeting I've ever seen Eric do, and it makes me nervous.

"I want," he stops. "I want you to come home."


End file.
